The April Girl
by pinksnail
Summary: Brought about by a deep-rooted guilt, China accepts a young child in to his life, promising to protect and raise her. She will grow-up surrounded by personified nations; who is to know whether that will turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing...
1. Prologue

**Brought about by a deep-rooted guilt, China accepts a young child in to his life, promising to protect and raise her. She will grow-up surrounded by personified nations; who is to know whether that will turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing...**

**~The April Girl~**

**Prologue**

* * *

China remembered it well.

He had sat in a room surrounded by many an influential Chinese politician. The young upstarts would nod enthusiastically in agreement, keen to impress and rise to power. The old ones with lined faces and calloused hands dictated, believing in their own omniscience and wisdom. They all seemed so decided on the new law. China felt that even if he were to raise an argument against it his voice would go unheard despite his prominent status.

The nation recalled the monotonous time he had spent in a cycle of sleepless nights and tedious days. He was either partaking in the routine procedures of his land without a care for what decrees were passed or lying in bed, not sleeping, just thinking. He had felt so weak then. He had scarcely got out of a famine in the year 1961.

35 million died.

35 million of his citizens. Gone.

And millions more were starving.

When his bosses had first suggested a way to get out of this state he had assented instantly, devoid of hesitation. He had just been so desperate. No matter what he ate or how often he would rest he felt constantly drained. At the time no thought was given to the repercussions of his consent. But as China sat with these politicians, who were ready to finalize the new law, he began to have second thoughts.

An aged man stood at the head of a long table, his gaze falling upon his fellow officials. He spoke loudly and clearly, with confidence in his words. "We are all agreed then? We must enact a one-child policy in order to avoid another crisis. If the birth rate is not reduced, serious poverty could come to pass. We are too close to entering another famine as it is."

Favourable words were mumbled in harmony with their leader's views. None were opposed. And if they were, they did not speak up. Such was China. He did not argue or concur, he simply sat in silence. He yearned for someone to think of another way to be rid of starvation. However he knew there was none. This was to save his people, his nation.

All would be well in the end.

He hoped.

...

The year 1979 begun and thus did the one-child policy. The Chinese government declared to all of its citizens that as of henceforth, anyone caught attempting to have more than one child, with the exception of more than one delivered during a birth (such as twins), would face heavy fines and punishment. Abortion became a common practice. Fortunately the use of physical force to make a woman submit to an abortion or sterilization was outlawed, but was not entirely enforced. This small relief was not enough to quell China's unease.

Bad things still happened. He saw them.

Every night his dreams were plagued by the screams and tears of the many mothers of China. Each nightmare would be different. Sometimes he would see parents cry for the loss of a child. Other times he would see babies discarded as if their lives were meaningless to the world. The dreams were terrifying and seemingly endless. But eventually they would always stop.

...

"My child!" A scream ripped through the dark abyss. "You can't take him away from me! He's mine!"

More cries and wails joined the first, each more terrible than the one before.

It was loud. _So loud._

The noise.

The shapes.

Terrifying shapes.

Darkness.

_It's everywhere._

Anywhere.

Only darkness.

China sat cross-legged in his nightmarish void. His eyes were shut tightly, not allowing a glimpse of the terrorizing images to seep through. But he could still hear them. He could always hear them.

He tried to keep his breathing as he did every night. But this time around things were particularly bad.

The din was deafening yet he heard every voice, as clear as a bell.

"It's a girl... No... No. Put her up for adoption. Don't worry about that... You only need a son."

"You whore! You have disrespected me one too many times! You are no daughter of mine."

"My baby!"

Shouts were whispered.

"But I can't pay the fine..."

And whispers were shouted.

"Please let me keep her! Please!"

It was too much.

...

**January the 5th (1979)**

China awoke from his dream. He did not panic like the first time he had a nightmare reminiscent of this. He simply let out a deep sigh and pushed his sheets away from his form, slowly raising himself to his feet and taking a few shaky steps forward.

He still felt the same exhaustion he had before the one-child policy. It overcame him at times like this.

_It's too much._

_It was my fault._

_So weak..._

After changing into appropriate winter attire, China stepped out of his warm house into the snowy scene outside.

This was the usual routine for him now. Every night he would have a nightmare, and then once he woke, he would go for a stroll. He found that the exercise was a good way to release any pent up stress or anxiety.

He stood on his porch, bathed in moonlight, staring to the sky above. It was still dark but to his east he could just about make out the warm strip of light that was dawn. It was early morning.

China's breath produced little clouds of white haze in the frosty morning air. The cold was numbing yet the chills that ran through him that were not completely to do with the weather.

Rubbing his hands together, he began to wander away from his house. On instinct his feet lead him to a nearby village. He would often end up here. It was always busy. Even at a time such as this people were beginning to line the edge of the path he walked, setting up market stalls.

They were all cold and they were all poor, yet they laboured on.

That is why he loved this community.

His people.

Just ahead, he saw a young woman, dressed in a thin dirty coat, stumbling through the deep snow. One hand was raised to shield her face from the harsh winds and in the other there was a small bundle, which she held with such care, as if it were as delicate as porcelain. Fresh snow clung to her skin as she continued to struggle through the street; not a soul stopping to help. Despite every factor working against her, she moved determinedly.

China was intrigued, if not slightly worried.

Anyone would be freezing dressed in so little layers. He had never seen her in this village before so she couldn't live here, but then she carried nothing but the bundle. Surely she couldn't be travelling?

He maintained a steady pace behind the woman, making sure not to walk too close but not falling behind either. He could hear her breaths coming to her in small sharp gasps and could see the way her knees would nearly buckle with each step. From a distance this wouldn't be obvious but China had been watching carefully. She was weak.

_He was weak._

No. He was a nation, powerful and large. He was over 4000 years old! He had survived devastating wars and disasters. It would take more than a measly food shortage to finish him off now. That didn't mean the years wouldn't take its toll on him though...

China was snapped out of his reverie by the all too sudden and alarming sight of an empty road ahead. Where had the woman gone? His attention had only slipped for a few moments and he had already lost sight of her. Silently berating himself, China looked to the side just in time to see the flutter of dark hair disappear behind a building and into an alley. Luck was on his side today.

Or so he thought.

He followed the narrow trail in the snow that lead to the spot the lady had vanished from his sight and turned down the passage quickly as not to miss her again. He had expected to see her there. However he had not expected her to be waiting for him armed with a lethal bamboo stick. She was upon him almost instantaneously, smacking his sides with as much force as could be mustered, yet still cradling the bundle.

"Aiyaa!" China screeched, utterly startled. He batted the cane away with more difficulty than he anticipated. For a woman with such a slight build she was quite strong.

Even once China had taken a step away she still swiped furiously at him, bamboo cutting through the air like a knife. "Stop hitting me, aru!"

"Not. Until. You. Stop. Following. Me. You creep!" With every pause between her words she aimed another attack, the nation barley evading each one.

His expression morphed into one of guilt as he mumbled, "You figured that out the-" He did not get to finish his sentence.

His unlikely attacker had wasted no time in striking out at him again and this time it hit. China fell to the ground, in more surprise than pain. Although he was pretty sure a nasty bruise was already forming on the side of his face.

From his seat in the snow, the great country watched in shock and awe as the woman stared down at him with such hatred it unnerved him. Her cane was pointed directly between his eyes as her lips gave way to a feral snarl. There was some wild spark in her eyes; it was some kind of long lost instinct. Similar to something you may see in a wild animal when backed into a corner, with no way out but to fight, forced into defiance.

He had seen a display like this before. _Somewhere..._

By a river, sometime ago... There had been a tigress and a hunter. The majestic creature stood tall, proudly baring a bullet in her side, hissing threats and growling her detestations. The hunter couched, unfazed. He paraded the naivety of men, who have always underestimated all things natural.

He raised his gun and gently caressed the trigger.

He was waiting. Waiting. Waiting...

And he continued to wait even in death.

Teeth had buried themselves into his throat and red obscurities spurted from the wounds. Seconds ticked by and the Tigress's jaw would clench harder until the hand wrapped around the gun fell limp and let the weapon drop to the floor.

In a final surge of strength, the great beast pushed herself away from the ugly corpse and hobbled to the river, by the patch of reeds. She lowered herself to the ground and sat patiently, in a state of matted fur and bloody fangs.

The slender plants rustled, and then mewled. The Tigress replied with a low comforting rumble. The sound alone was enough to bring two bright eyes out from hiding. Slowly and ever so timidly, it emerged from the reeds.

The cub stayed with its mother until the very end.

Even when she stopped moving.

Even when she stopped breathing.

China realised then. "That bundle..." He began to express his thoughts aloud. "It couldn't be a baby, could it?"

"You will NOT take her away from me." The woman whispered in a cold vehemence, pushing the tip of her staff against his forehead, effectively pushing him away.

China could have fought back. He could have snapped the bamboo in half without exerting himself. He could have knocked her unconscious and left her in the snow.

So why didn't he?

He had power. Why didn't he use it?

He knew many a country who would react in such away. But China was different.

This was one of his citizens. She was a citizen who had been pushed to the limit and now acted upon instinct alone.

So he could never hurt her. It was not in his nature.

Besides, he had seen this before. The tigress was simply protecting her cub.

"I don't care if my father paid you a million yuan! You can stick the money up your ass and go back to where you came from!" Her fierce growl covered the tiredness veiled behind her soft brown eyes.

"I think you have misunderstood my intentions, aru." China said gently, making sure not to execute any sudden movements that may trigger her to panic again. He began to gradually pick himself up, causing her to flinch slightly, yet she still stood firm. "I don't know what horrible things you have been through. But I do know what I see before me, aru! I can see that you're close to collapsing. All I want is to help you!"

At his statement her stiff shoulders seemed to inadvertently drop. Her malice was waning but not completely gone. "People just don't help other people, especially if they don't know them." She claimed cynically.

China offered her a kind-hearted smile as he reached out his hand. 'I think you're underestimating the goodness of strangers, aru."

The young woman's body visibly tensed, her muscles becoming taut and frozen. She stared to him in confusion and barley registered him gently sliding the cane from her hand. She only noticed it was gone after China had placed it behind him. "H-Hey!" She lunged forward, intent on getting back her only form of defence. But it appeared that her body had simply had enough now. Her knees gave way and without the support of her legs she was left falling.

With what little energy she had left, the mother had managed to angle herself to the side in order to take the impact away from her child. Fortunately, China caught her long before she could hit the ground. She slumped in his arms, breathing heavily. "Give that back..." She muttered hoarsely.

"You don't need a weapon anymore, aru. You have no one here to fight. I only want to protect you."

"It's not me that needs protecting. My baby-" She gasped loudly in pain before continuing softly. "My baby needs protection."

China could feel the intense heat radiating in waves from her body, regardless of the icy dampness seeping through her clothing. Her face was flushed a blotchy red and her eyelids were beginning to droop downwards. The sovereign state knew he had to treat her and quickly. She was in a very poor condition. "I will safeguard the both of you then! Try to get up now, aru."

And with that China heaved the woman up into standing, one arm hooked around her waist and her own slung over his shoulder. She pulled her child closer to her chest, screening it from the world, as they embarked on the journey back to China's house through snow ridden land.

...

Now in his home, China had prepared his patient a bed in one of his many unoccupied bedrooms. There had been a time when each room had belonged to many little nations. The pitter-patter of feet and ringing laughter had echoed around his house then. Back in the glory days when he had been the one who had been relied upon, when he wasn't alone. But either due to his own stupidity or unfortunate circumstances every member of his family had left.

"Be sure not to move now, aru." China told the mother as he pulled the bed sheets over her body.

When he had first removed her of her soaking coat he had seen how truly small and frail her form was. Her paper-thin blouse stuck to her skin and revealed a time of malnourishment to China. He had then politely asked permission to change her clothes for her. She had argued against and insisted she was able to clothe herself. After almost ten minutes of her struggling just to remove a shirt he took it upon himself to help anyway, earning himself a grumbled threat as he undressed her.

Making sure not to stare, he had quickly glanced over her prior to letting her get into bed. Her face was still reddened and hot yet the rest of her was a sickly pale, with the exception of some small purple bruises that littered her body. Her flesh seemed to cling to her bones, giving her an empty look. The phrase 'just skin and bones' matched her appearance well.

Besides her worrying complexion and wasted manifestation, the only other visible impairment he could see was an unpleasant swelling in her right foot. The area was far too large and waxy-looking, and the skin had taken on a nasty red colour, some spots even gaining a bluish discolouration.

And that was only the outside! China had no idea what was happening to the woman internally.

He was glad to cover her, not just because of the indecency he felt but also because he could not stand to see her protruding ribs. It reminded him of the people constantly dying of starvation in his country.

Her gaunt features relaxed somewhat as she settled into the bed. She turned her head to the side, her gaze falling on her small smiling baby, removed from its rags and now wrapped in fluffy white towels. The child caught its mother's eyes and laughed loudly. The infant's glee was contagious to her regardless of how awful she felt. She wheezed a struggled laugh in return.

China smiled sadly at the herbs and flowers he ground into a bowl. There is nothing in the world more wonderful than a mother. He was sure he could put up a good argument against America's constant egotistical nonsense and prove that women like this were the true heroes in life.

He mixed the crushed plants, some powdered medicine and hot water into the bowl, gave it a quick stir and then offered it to the woman. She eyed the mixture hesitantly before bringing her lips to the dish. China slowly tilted the bowl upwards as she drank, cupping his free hand under her chin to catch any spilt liquid.

Hacking back a cough, she finished the drink quickly. China grabbed a cloth and wiped around the edge of her mouth as she slurred sleepily. "Are you a doctor then, Mr...?"

"Chi-Yao-uh, my name is Wang Yao, aru. And no, I'm not a doctor. I just know medicine well." He had not heard his human name out loud for a long time; it sounded strange but not at all unpleasant. In fact, it made him feel less brutal for every atrocity he had committed as a nation and allowed him to feel like an individual, with the innocence and naivety of such a creature.

She gave him a strained smile. "Well Wang Yao, my name is Tung-Mei."

"Just Tung-Mei... There is no surname?"

"Just Tung-Mei." She answered rather curtly, pressing her lips together with a downcast look. She held her face straight for a few moments then tears started to well in her dark eyes. Her expression contorted into a grimace as a distressing sob racked through her body.

China panicked at the sight. "What's wrong, aru?! Please tell me! What part of you hurts?"

"Everything..." She wept hysterically, her eyes and cheeks strewn with repressed tears. She hugged at herself desperately. "My heart, my body, my soul... It's so painful! Stop them from hurting! Please..."

"I-I don't know if I can fix a heart or soul...but I can help to fix your body, aru..." China replied shakily. He reached forward to envelop one of her trembling hands within his own clammy palms. He grasped her tightly, hoping to convey reassurance through the pressure. "I will try to cure you!"

China let go, rose and began scouring the room for anything useful. He wrecked shelving full of ointments and herbal remedies in the hope to find something.

Anything.

Muttering to himself quietly, he fumbled over some pots of salve. "No, this isn't right!" He threw his findings to the floor and moved on to some odd-looking jars. "I'm sure it's a fever, aru. But it's already so critical. These won't help. And on her leg, it looks like trench foot..."

He began to pace the room furiously, trying to scrape together some kind of idea. Something that could fix her. He only stopped when he felt a firm tug at his trousers, preventing him from continuing on.

China looked down and saw dainty fingers curled tightly around the hem of his pants. Tung-Mei's knuckles glared a vivid white against the gentle burgundy of her skin. She let her hand slip from the material but kept it fisted, her nails digging into her palm. She exhaled a shallow breath and croaked, "There is one way to fix both my heart and soul..."

He crouched beside her, seeing that her crying had been reduced to a gentle trickle. She appeared to have even less energy now yet her resolve was greater than ever before. Her will was something to be admired.

"W-What?" China stammered. He was keen for the knowledge but was also made quite apprehensive by the steely look the woman gave him.

"I don't care if my body cannot be saved. You _will_ promise to take care of my child." She said without a shred of uncertainty.

China's mind froze at her request.

_No._ Demand.

He could only just about choke out a garbled response. "I-No, I couldn't possibly-What I mean is-"

"Didn't you tell me you would protect us?" She questioned him.

"I did but by that I meant healing you and keeping you sheltered all at once. So you won't need me to look after your baby, aru. You _will_ be able to that yourself. That I promise."

She growled weakly, shaking her head. "No. Don't promise that."

"But you're not going to die, aru! I'm making sure of that!" China cried vehemently.

Tung-Mei sighed and closed her eyes in some sort of finality that even the great country didn't think he would be able to disagree with. "Then..." She began in an astonishingly composed tone. "May we come to a compromise?"

Without waiting for an answer she continued. "If I die, and bear in mind I say _if_, you will promise to take care of my child. You will protect her from harm and will not give her up to anyone. Do not let her go to an orphanage. Do not let anyone take her. Let her have normality and let her have love. Let her live the life I have failed to provide."

If.

It was only... _if_...

But that one word laced more horrors into his mind than anything else said or done. He could not disagree with what she had said. It was a conditional request after all. Nothing more.

Her death would not come to pass.

But what if it did?

China blazed in anger at the thought and then mirrored the feelings back at himself, towards his rage. He was cross with himself for being cross in the first place.

He did not have the right to get so infuriated over the whole matter, because he knew that deep down he wasn't doing this out of some spurring noble act of chivalry like that English idiot would, or even the pining France. Nor was he trying to be the hero.

He was helping this woman because he felt guilty.

There was some good to this, he wouldn't deny that. But ultimately would he really be so inclined to help her if there was no guilt?

He thought not.

He would not feel driven into a determination to see her through. He would not be urged to nurture her back to full health. And he certainly wouldn't be so distressed watching her suffering.

That is what he told himself.

He had lived so long and he had seen so much pain and sadness. Today was his breaking point. It just felt as if each decision he made could never improve anyone's lives. There was always a negative. There were always the star-crossed ones. The people who were doomed to fail because of his own choices and actions.

This time he wanted to make the right choice. But it seemed yet again he was being pushed to the wrong. Why didn't this mother struggle to live like she had done earlier? She hadn't lost her fight; China could still see that flame blazing within her. So he could only wonder _why_. He thought all humans' first instinct was to survive.

Tung-Mei slid a finger into her child's tiny hand, its surprisingly strong grasp barley wrapping all the way around the digit. The dark haired woman looked from the baby to China with an expression of pensiveness. No doubt she was speculating on what his silence meant. She pressed her lips together and then presented her rescuer with a smile. "I wouldn't ask this of anybody, you know?"

China stared at her with puckered brows. The statement had caught him by surprise.

Once again (after receiving no verbal response) she persisted on. "You have some kind of aura to you. It's kind of like... majestic." She explained, moving her hands limply through the air, trying to gesture to some unseen force. "It gives me the feeling I can trust you with Niu."

"Niu?" China finally voiced something.

"That's her name." Tung-Mei looked lovingly to her offspring. "Niu Avril Clavier."

"That sounds like a very western name," The nation huffed touchily, "apart from Niu of course, aru." He did feel slightly insulted that a Chinese woman should not choose a completely Chinese name for her daughter. He did not like all the new things western society brought to him, names being one of them, despite some technology and ideas from the countries being of use.

She hummed a laugh, with a melancholy sheen to her eyes. "It is, isn't it?" She noticed China's sour expression and added, almost as if she had read his thoughts. "I want you to give her a very traditional upbringing but do not let her become prejudice towards other cultures. I want her to embrace new things yet still be proud of her nationality."

"I haven't even agreed yet, aru. And even if I were to who's to say you would die? Do I have to keep telling you that you're not going to die?"

"No... I get it. I'm not going to die." She responded wearily, although she didn't sound entirely convinced. Really, it sounded like she wanted him to shut up. "Can you just say you'll look after her anyway? It'll make me feel better."

"Alright, aru!" China sniffed grudgingly. "If that will help you recover then... I promise."

"Thank you."

And for the first time she looked truly content.

* * *

**Hey there~**

**I've been thinking about writing something for the Hetalia fandom for a while. And this idea wouldn't stop rattling around in my head so in the end I just decided to write it. **

**I've been learning a lot about population growth and such in geography recently, more specifically '_what China did to reduce their birth rate_'. I found it very interesting to learn about but I knew there had to be more to it than what my teacher was telling us. There had to be more than just facts, figures and laws. So I did some soul searching and watched some documentaries. With the more I found out the more I could reflect on what personal distress was caused by the one-child policy. I could just imagine how awful it would be to have the right to have as many children as you want taken away from you.**

**So I'm hoping to be able to play around with the themes of family, human rights, immortality opposed to mortality, etc...**

**I want this to be serious and realistic (as realistic as you can get around personified nations) but there will be plenty of lighthearted moments. After-all, in its simplest form, this is a story about _living_.**

**-Niu: name meaning a girl. 妞**

**-Tung-Mei: name meaning winter plums.**

**-Trench Foot (a.k.a. Immersion Foot): You've probably all heard of it, considering the name is derived from soldiers getting it in the trenches. It's a condition caused by exposure to wet or damp conditions for a long time. At first you will feel tingling, then numbness and then just pure pain. How I described Tung-Mei's foot earlier on is basically what it looks like as it is getting to critical stages.**


	2. A Guilty Promise

**~The April Girl~**

**A Guilty Promise**

* * *

**January the 8th (1979)**

_Insignificant._

Isn't that what she should be?

As great an importance as a snowflake. It's existence fleeting yet beautiful.

_Yes. _That is what she was.

A snowflake.

But how was it that China had thought that the snowflake could have the greatest significance of all? Such tiny specks, drifting through the sky, with no set course except to fall.

But they did not plummet as a nation would, in fire and destruction. They flew, able to see the wonders of the world without gravity leaning too heavily on their shoulders. The snowflakes could dance through life, twirling, leaping and entwining with one another to form the most beautiful art.

And as delightful as they were to watch, a nation should never get too attached to a snowflake, as inevitably it would always melt.

China stared blankly out of the window, eyes glazed over. Numbly, he watched little specks of white pile up against the glass, clambering to get a good view of inside. His lips were parted and head was lolling on to one shoulder but he simply couldn't find the energy to bother correcting his arrangement.

_Had she known? Is that why she didn't want my help?_

There were so many questions but so few answers. He had been left with only doubt and an impending promise.

He didn't really want to accept. Nor did he want to feel sad. So instead he pushed away redundant emotions and thoughts, only embracing the one thing he deserved to feel.

Guilt.

Undeniable and completely justifiable guilt.

He should have been able to save her. He had been determined to. Perhaps it had been his vehemence that had made Tung-Mei's death such a shock. There was no other explanation for China's disregard of all the signs that would point towards it.

Since the night he had taken her in, Tung-Mei's health began to deteriorate at an alarming rate despite China's best efforts to cure her. Modern or traditional, every medicine he gave her did nothing to stop or even slow the effects of her fever. And her foot had been a lost cause from the start. He discovered the beginnings of gangrene attacking and rotting the flesh. If she had lived longer it would have had required amputation.

The guilt swallowed him whole. A felony built-up throughout all the time he had walked the Earth; murder, corruption and obliteration. It was a sin no country could escape, yet some could still flourish undisturbed, oblivious to the immensity of their crimes. China had lived enough foolhardy years now to realize the circuitous ways of a nation.

They were thoughtless.

Insensitive.

Selfish.

Everything they did was performed under the pretence of being for some worthy cause. The lies they would tell just to keep themselves sane, the things they would ignore for their own comfort, and how they could only ever see a straight line. China understood now that you need to draw a circle to get the Earth. A thick, unwavering, endless streak would never work. Every course taken would affect another and another, like a tidal wave that sweeps over the whole world, glossing over the never-ending circle.

And China was the sun. Every snowflake would bask and shimmer in his presence. Everything would orbit him; he was viewed as the most important. Yet he was the one who made them melt. He was the one who ended their existence in the end, whether he meant to or not.

A babbling voice sounded from behind him. Startled by the broken silence, China jumped to his feet. He turned and looked down to the baby, whose mouth was stretched into a toothless grin. She laughed loudly and reached her arms out towards him, wriggling her fingers. She was asking to be picked up.

Bending down, China scooped the tiny creature up into his arms, assenting to her wordless request. He handled her gingerly, quite sure he would break her if he was not carful.

Unfortunately the infant did not treat China with the same care. She grabbed a fistful of his dark unkempt hair, loose and unwashed over the days he had been caring for Tung-Mei, and gave it a short sharp tug.

China hissed in pain and then frowned at the baby. "That was mean, aru. You must not do that again." The tiny human cocked her head to the side in confusion at the nation's stern tone. China couldn't help but smile at the sheer adorability he was witnessing.

Able to understand China was not angry at her anymore, the baby gurgled cheerily and yanked at his hair once again. "Aiyaa!" He yelped. "Cute but dangerous. Like a Panda, aru. You're much stronger than you look... as was your mother..." He finished quietly, gaze flickering to the cheerless white sheet below.

The drawn fabric covered the corpse. He had placed it over the body earlier this morning.

At the time he had convinced himself that hiding the deceased had been for the baby's sake. What child should have to see its mother's motionless form? But the infant had been seemingly ignorant of the horrible ordeal. Even when Tung-Mei breathed her last her child had been chewing on her tiny thumb, blissfully unaware that from that day onward she was an orphan.

There had been no tears, no screams.

She had been fine.

It was China who wasn't.

The nation couldn't bear to look at Tung-Mei now. Could he even really say this lifeless lump was Tung-Mei? She was no longer the fiery spirit he had found in the snow. She was no more than a shell that had once housed her Chi; the force of the universe had left her now.

When China saw her so empty he was relentlessly reminded of all the pain, suffering and death in the world. And of the guilt for not saving his citizen.

It was for those reasons he covered her.

But he knew that soon he would have to move the body. Bury it in physicality and mentality. He would hide this morbid reminder.

_Keep it away._

_Put it out of sight._

_Forget._

It was what he did with most of his problems, except this time he could literally bury it under mounds of cold compact dirt. Never to be seen again.

And then he could carry on with normality. However now he had a promise to keep.

He had to look after a child. A human child. What kind of normality is that? Sure he had cared for other young nations before but had never had the same obligation to a human. He questioned whether it would be the same, whether it would really be that different. Only time would tell.

Nestling the baby back within the blankets he had taken her from, he managed to roll the ends of the material into a long rope-like shape (effectively making a small hammock). He hoisted the little one up from within the hauler and wrapped the sheets around his neck, creating a safe place for the child to be cradled close to him. The device was similar to what he used to see mothers doing not too long ago when they were harvesting rice from the fields. Some still did.

With a shovel in one hand and a baby slung around his chest, China made his way out back to his garden. Outside the air was a bitter dagger against his skin but fortunately the snowfall was light. The conditions were much better now than they had been these last few days.

He followed the stone path that cut through his precincts, crossing a pretty wooden bridge that arched over his frozen pond, goldfish trapped under its thick ice. He passed by dead trees and leafless shrubbery. They had all been withered by the harsh winter. But then there were the small flashes of colour and life from the plants known as the 'Three friends of winter' who remained vigorous during this cruel season.

At his destination there were masses of the beautiful vegetation. He stopped walking there, at the very end of his garden, border marked by a forest of bamboo, hollow straws reaching high, bending gracefully in the wind. It was nice to have this expanse of untamed nature so close by. It gave him a taste of the days when he had been a young nation, with muddy feet and toothy grin; those days he barely recalled. Sometimes he wondered if they ever had happened but the wise bamboo would always relay his memories back to him as they rustled and creaked.

There were the pines too. The sight of them was far scarcer than the bamboo, though they had been around for a good deal longer. Their longevity and tenacity had always impressed China. In his youth he felt as if they were trying to rival him in age. It would have been in vain of course. Despite their prolonged existence (often outliving many humans) they could never beat him. But then he had realized the pine trees were not trying to compete. They were his kind stubborn friends who would stick around just to keep him company. It was the most constant friendship he had ever had-even including other nations-as the pines were always there for him. Unconditionally.

And then there was the final friend, the one he sought today. It was the plum tree. These trees were full of beautiful dainty blossoms. They were a striking sight against the blazing whiteness of the snow and their subtle yet remarkably sweet aroma could relax the most agitated of minds. For China they epitomized the purity and hope of humans. They were the harbinger of spring. A virtuous, ethereal thing that would enthuse about the new life that was to come with the optimism that China so desperately required.

They reminded him a lot of Tung-Mei. He wanted to bury her here.

Standing directly in front of the largest plum tree in his garden, China began to dig. He jabbed at the frosty earth with his shovel. With a grunt he pushed down on the spade and broke the surface of the ground. He continued the process, careful not to jostle the baby as he worked. Slowly but steadily a mound of soil and clay began to rise, while the hole grew deeper and wider.

Once China deemed the hole big enough he raised himself out of the gap in the ground. He let out a tired sigh, using his sleeve to wipe a smug of dirt from his face, succeeding only in smearing it further.

It had been an arduous task, but it had needed to be done.

After checking the baby was alright still (thankfully she was perfectly fine), China returned indoors. Kneeling down, he slid his arms underneath the bulk of the white sheet and scooped it up, holding it tenderly. This load had once been a precious thing and that was enough for him to treat it as if it still was. It had sentimental value regardless.

China once again stood in the presence of the vast plum tree. The great timber giant seemed to lean forwards out of curiosity, trying to peek into the open grave. Inside Tung-Mei slept peacefully, long hair fanned out around her face and hands relaxed over her lap. Her expression was calm, not contorted or pained as it was earlier. No tears escaped her closed eyes and her skin was no longer hot and blotchy, just cold and pale.

The nation wanted to give her a traditional burial to the best of his ability but as it was winter there were no flowers to lie on the body. He had to make do without. Although there were no flowers or guests he could invite he had managed to scrounge some up some joss paper to burn.

Small flames flickered as they fell through the air, leaving trails of smoke behind them. As each blackened shreds of paper landed they crumbled and turned to ash upon the deceased. China couldn't quite recall when this particular ritual had come about, he only knew it now from having attended countless funerals before in his drawn out existence and performed the same customary action on every occasion. He wondered if this reflected his people. Were these actions only done now because of the constant pressure to conform? Perhaps it was now only a way to haughtily maintain what they labelled 'Chinese', a possession of theirs.

The burning of the paper is meant to ensure a safe passage to the netherworld. Were people beginning to forget simple things like that? He thought he might be feeling it inside him. His memory was a haze, slowly becoming more blurred as the elderly passed away, too few leaving behind culture and heritage.

Every elaborate celebration was turning into something that was simply done, not felt. People were overlooking the true meaning of their traditions. But then the same could be said about every other country and their conduct. These modern times really were changing them all.

The grave was now filled and the snow began to fall harder. Any sign that it was there had been covered by the frozen expanse. Fortunately he knew it would always be under the biggest plum tree so he had no need to mark its place, although it may be nice to make a small headstone of some sort.

A loud wail had China's head snapping downwards. The baby was crying.

China's eyes softened as he gazed at the tearful infant. He unravelled the carrier from around his neck and pulled back the material so that he could see her face. Her plump cheeks were puffed out with lips trembling, a sign she was about to cry out again. Her astonishingly blue eyes were wide and innocent-a western trait if ever he saw one. Regardless of the fact she was undoubtedly not purely Chinese he could still feel a connection to her as a citizen of his country. He could hear her tiny heart beating from within her frail ribcage and could feel the ancient blood coursing through her veins, but alongside something new. Something different.

He wondered what it was.

"Hush... Hush..." He murmured calming words to the child, gently stroking her tufts of feathery hair. "I'm sorry we've been outside for a long time, aru. I just had to get some things done. You have been warm though, right?" He asked, knowing quite well he would receive no intelligible answer.

As China expected she spewed out a series of garbled noises in reply. When he showed no signs of understanding the baby let out a prolonged whine. It was a sound that reminded him of something an adult may do when frustrated. The thought made him chuckle.

"How about we go inside and figure out what you want?" China smiled down at the little girl, already heading back through the tamed wilderness of his garden.

As soon as he crossed over the threshold of his house China felt the warmth envelop him. It was strange that he hadn't particularly noticed the cold until now, when his joints were stiff and limbs tingling out of numbness. The shiver that ran through his spine spurred him into making a small den for him and the baby in the living room.

The fort took quite some time to set up but China deemed it worth it once he and the little one were snuggled up inside. Sprawled out across many pillows and furs, China and the baby were side by side under a large canopy of cotton. He fed the baby with a bottle of lukewarm milk and he himself had a cup of Tieguanyin tea.

As he rolled from his back to his side, now facing the child, he caught the scent of the floral brew. He inhaled deeply, allowing the soothing vapours to fill his nostrils and calm his mind. He was so relaxed as opposed to his former state.

Tung-Mei had died and left her daughter to him. How could be so content now but so distressed then?

It felt illusory.

Surrounded by warmth and comfort, room dimly lit by the flickering flames of incense, he rested this evening. Yet a mere day ago he had been almost hysterical as he had tended to Tung-Mei. Despite the winter's chill the air in the guest room had been muggy. Tung-Mei had never been moved from her spot in the guest bed since she had arrived. It had not been ideal - the bed was soiled from blood, sweat and urine. The smell was awful and it was no doubt unsanitary but whenever he had attempted to move his patient she would begin to cry and grasp at him insistently, pulling at his clothes and hair. He didn't know what else to do but to leave her in lying in the mess.

China thought he could heal her. Medicine had always been a strong suit of his, right? Even his methods of acupuncture were beginning to catch on abroad. His treatments were the best. So he wondered then if the problem was not the remedies but the way he was administering them.

_No!_

If anyone were to know how to administer the medicine it would be him. He was China. Though still he doubted. He had been prepared to swallow his pride for once and call for the doctor from the village. Having someone assisting him couldn't hurt.

But Tung-Mei had been determinedly against it.

The moment China had mentioned it she had insisted, "No!" She had gritted her teeth and grunted. "Don't! Don't... They'll find my Niu... I can't let them..."

"Who?" China had asked like he had so many times before. "Who are the 'they' you keep talking about?"

And in the same way she had replied each time her eyes grew wide and panicked as she would begin to mutter in curses and profanities then a quite snivelling. Finally she would give him that overwhelming look, resolute and intense. "Keep Niu safe."

It had been that night when she had died. Her health had plummeted so suddenly and unexpectedly. She had ceased to talk entirely and ceased to move. She had been stationary for hours, breaths shallow and her glassy eyes staring blankly.

Then her heart just stopped.

And she was gone.

At first China had been in denial. He had scrambled to scrounged up every medicine he could from the back of his cabinets, returning to Tung-Mei's limp body with an arm full of pills and ointments. He had shaken her, shouted and attempted to get her to swallow the medicine. Of course he knew she wouldn't.

It was stupid to even try. Pointless.

So when he finally accepted she was gone for good, he had brushed a hand over eyes, gently closing the lids and pulled a sheet over her body. He brought the baby in from the living room too. He wanted to see how she would react to seeing her mother dead. But obviously she had not understood. The little girl continued to act as she always did. Oblivious. But happily so.

As she was now, when they lay in the warmth of his house, the baby playfully biting China's hand and he himself laughing at the amusing spectacle of the little creature trying to gnaw on his thumb. Innocence like this was rarely seen by China. Even when he had cared for other Asian countries in their youth, their eyes could never have held the same amount of purity as this child's. As a country –no matter how young –they will always have seen atrocities.

"Hey... Little human..." He called softly, trying to attract the infant's attention. She continued to chew at his fingers with her toothless pink gums, showing no sign she had heard him.

China sighed. _So happily oblivious._

"Uh... Niu?" This time she looked up at him with those big blue eyes, stopping what she was doing all together. Her attentiveness was an almost alarming change compared to her usual distracted behaviour.

Had the calling of her name caused this reaction? She was very young to already be distinguishing words. She could only be several weeks old at maximum. Maybe she could recognize a few more words. "I don't think we've had a proper introduction yet, aru. Niu, my name is Yao and from this day onwards I'm going to be your big brother." He pointed to himself and repeated. "Yao."

She blinked owlishly, giving off a feeling of outstanding insightfulness.

Yao smiled and with new sense of admiration for Niu he continued to talk to her warmly, using the type of doting behaviour that was shunned by so many he had called family. This little girl wasn't rejecting him. She listened conscientiously even if she may not be able to properly understand him yet. "I will try to be as good to you as your mother was. It was obvious she loved you. That was why she didn't care about dying, wasn't it? Because of you Niu. She just wanted you to be able to live on in-"

_Knock. Knock._

"...Peace." He finished in a murmur, quite surprised by the sound of a firm rapping against his front door.

China crawled out of the plush den, wondering who on earth could be knocking. He didn't get that many visitors as it was, and especially not at this time of day; it was already dark outside.

He straightened out his clothes, ironing out some of the more prominent creases before unbolting his door and letting it swing ajar. From behind the wooden panel two formal-looking men were revealed, both dressed in smart dark attire.

"Hello? Can I help you, aru?"

"Yes, we believe so. My colleague and I," He began gesturing to himself and the man next to him," are both investigators and have had a request to look into the case of a missing woman. According to our sources she was last seen by a local shopkeeper just over three days ago being led away from the town by a man who matches the description of yourself. Later another villager identified him as Wang Yao and informed us you lived here. Does this seem familiar to you?"

China's eyebrows furrowed slightly, just for a moment, before his expression straightened out and he became pokerfaced. On the inside however, his mind was whirring in thought.

These men were after Tung-Mei. That much was clear. But the question was: _why? _

He knew Tung-Mei had been on the run for many weeks. She had never specifically informed China of her struggles but he had managed to deduce quite a lot just from her behaviour and general appearance (alongside injuries). She had been wearing clothing inadequate for winter weather and had faced the consequences of serious illness because of it. She had no money on her person and had clearly been eating very little for a long time. The most straightforward explanation was that she was poor, to the point where she had been forced onto the streets. Maybe she had no choice but to steal to survive and now the law enforcement was onto her case. But China had a feeling in his gut that there was something more to it.

She had been articulate and seemingly well educated for the most part, excusing some of the more explicit choices in words. That would indicate she had not been in a bad situation for all her life at least. The change must have been quite recent.

China also wondered if she had been lacking in money as much as he had first thought, for when he had fist seen Niu, unwrapped from the rags that hid her, the little baby had been dressed in a thick expensive looking coat, along with frilly socks and knitted accessories. She had been perfectly healthy; well-fed and warm. Had Tung-Mei only spent money on her child, not herself? China wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

The ancient nation decided he should create a false trail for these men to follow. He didn't want to create trouble with the authorities, considering he was technically part of them. And there was also the factor that these men might not actually be who they say they are. He had no clue what kind of trouble Tung-Mei had been in. All he knew was that he had to keep Niu safe.

So as much as it frustrated him to act so indifferent just after Tung-Mei's death, it was the best way for him to get these people away without hassle. He was doing this for Niu's sake.

"...Yes." China began, pulling a sympathetic expression (the type you may see on a teacher when a child scrapes their knee in the playground). "I remember her. Poor thing... I only just managed to persuade her to let me give her some food, let alone treating her. She just wasn't having it, aru. She left as soon as she had finished eating and I haven't seen her since."

The same man, who seemed to be more vocal and older (yet more restless), stepped forwards slightly, his body language giving off a feeling of agitation. He fired numerous quick questions, his tone close to panicky. "When was this? There wasn't anyone else with her? Did she say where she was going?"

"I think she said something about going abroad... Nobody was with her though." China said, fabricating lies with ease. "And this must have been-Oooh..." He gave a moment's pause and tapped his chin in a casual manner. "I'd say this all happened a good three days ago, aru."

The balding investigator visibly grimaced at the news but the younger, more composed of the two then spoke up. Pointing a finger to China, he said, "You've got something on your face."

The unexpected comment threw China. He automatically raised a hand to his cheek and felt the residue of dry, crackling mud. "Uh, thank you." He began to rub at the grime with his over sized sleeves, feeling rather baffled.

"You've also got bags underneath your eyes."

Instead of confusion China now felt irritation. He didn't get the impression the man was just trying to be helpful in a blunt sort of way anymore, he was just being rude. Yet Yao pursed his lips and made no attempt to send any criticism back.

"Your hair is a mess," The man continued on, sparing no discretion. "And your clothes are crinkled. There's mud all over you." He then leaned forward slightly as he studied China's countenance. The nation couldn't help but lean back in unison. He was starting to feel somewhat unnerved at how carefully he was being scrutinized.

The man's head cocked to the side and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "You've been biting your lip, haven't you? I can see the blood." And then the investigator moved back, once again resuming a deadpan expression. "I think we're done here."

"Yes, yes. We need to hurry." His older associate garbled in agreement. He was now wringing his hands nervously. "No time for your nonsense."

He began to hurry away from China's door without even glancing back, but the younger on the other hand stopped as he followed his colleague down the moonlit path and turned back to Yao, wearing the strangest expression. It sent shivers down the nation's spine. "Thank you very much for your help. Goodbye."

China stood watching the two figures as they disappeared completely, swallowed by the darkness of the night, at which point he realized he had been standing there gormless and alone for at least ten minutes. He swiftly slammed the door shut.

He leaned forward against the wood, his head hitting the door with a dull _thump_.

_What had just happened?_

Yao let out a shaky breath, whilst running a hand through his hair and standing straight once again. It was peculiar how much that had unnerved him. He had been in many worse situations than that before. But there had been something about that man, the younger one; he had left him feeling truly unsettled. He was curious to what exactly that something was.

Yet in a way, China was hopeful they wouldn't come back for him to find out.

"Nui!" China exclaimed as he poked his head into their den. He quickly rushed to the baby's side. "Oh no! Nui, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

An upturned teacup lay next to the little girl and the hot liquid it had once contained was now spilt across her side. Nui had been weeping silently but once she had seen Yao she began to wail.

"I shouldn't have left this so close to you, aru. That was so stupid of me!" He swept the infant up from the floor and scanned her form thoroughly. Thankfully, the tea was apparently not so hot when it had been knocked over as there were no burns marring Niu's skin. But still he berated himself for not being more conscientious of her delicacy. It could have been piping hot, and then Niu could have been seriously hurt. In future he would be more careful.

"Come on Niu. Let's get washed up and ready for bed, aru. We've both had a long day."

That night Niu slept soundly in Yao's large comfy bed, wrapped in the arms of her new guardian. Yao however did not sleep so well. His dreams were once again beleaguered, but this time by thoughts of Tung-Mei, Niu and the strange men who had knocked on his door. The future was more unclear than ever and Yao could only hope that he would be able to live up to his promise.

_Keep Niu safe._

* * *

**Thus concludes chapter two. Make way for chapter three!**

**Sorry it took a while to write this but I had a real dilemma dealing with writer's block for a little while (along with a lot of exams). But it seems that Christmas has worked its magic and given me enough inspiration to finish this. The lovely reviews, favorites and follows helped too. I was surprised at how positive responses were to this story. I hope I've managed to keep standards just as high in this chapter.**

**-Chinese funerals- They are generally a very large and important event. Preceding the funeral there will be a wake that can last for days. In this period friends and family will bring flowers and white envelopes filled with money. The traditional flower used is irises. **

**At the actual funeral Joss paper will be burned. It's probably not done in the same way as China did it but then I've never been to a Chinese funeral, so I can't be sure. Plus the fact China didn't have all these things to spare and he had know Tung-Mei for a very short time. **

**After the funeral there would be a procession. The procession is bigger and more exuberant when the family is more wealthy.**

**-Tieguanyin tea: It's between green and black tea taste-wise but has a yellowish colour. It's meant to have a floral aroma and taste kind of sweet and fruity. This drink is rather popular in China.**


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